


We Cannot Live Within

by laureltreedaphne



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laureltreedaphne/pseuds/laureltreedaphne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>John grinned. "So McKay's attractive to everyone?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Cannot Live Within

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [](http://ivy03.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ivy03.livejournal.com/)**ivy03** for an amazing beta.

"McKay, don't-" John said, but of course Rodney didn't listen to him. He was already putting his hands on the Ancient device and "hmming" to himself distractedly.

There was a flash and a "shit" from McKay, a bunch of sparks flying from the control panel, and then a whole mess of rocks and dust pouring out from the ceiling and the walls of the little Ancient crawl space that the two of them had been hunched over in for the last thirty minutes while Ronon and Teyla stood guard outside.

"Ow-" said Rodney from somewhere beside him, and John realized that he was on the ground. He fumbled for the flashlight, which was still on, in the little pile of debris beside him.

"You alright, McKay?" he asked, shining the flashlight in the direction of Rodney's voice. He looked okay-covered with dirt and dust, eyes a little sheepish, but uninjured, which was the important thing.

"Yes, fine," Rodney said, shining his own flashlight back at him. "You've got a-" he gestured at the general area of John's head and John reached up to touch it, wincing when he felt a patch of wetness near his temple.

"Just a scrape, I think." He paused, levering himself up from the ground. Rodney did the same, wincing and bracing his hand against the console. "Tell me, McKay, why would you put your hands on something when we have no idea what it does?"

Rodney shrugged. "I don't know? There are little hand-shaped indentations. It seemed natural. It's useless, anyway, I think the power conduit is totally fried. That last little burst of activity seems to have used up any juice it had left."

"And the inscription?" John asked, shining his flashlight towards the little panel of Ancient writing on the wall.

Rodney shrugged again. "It's a dialect I'm not able to read-I can make out a couple of words, but not much else. My guess is this place was a monitoring station of some kind-maybe the Ancients were interested in the environment of the planet, or the habits of the natives. Anyway, whatever data was in here is lost by now."

"Lost because you just caused an explosion, you mean."

Rodney kicked a rock at him. "You have no way of knowing that! Clearly there have already been rockslides in here before, that's why it was damaged in the first place! The data was probably lost long before I got here. And it wouldn't have been any use to us, anyway! This is a miserable little planet, the natives have long since abandoned it, nothing grows here since it's basically just a slab of rock-"

"Fine, McKay," John interrupted, holding out a hand in a "stop" gesture. "Let's get out of here. I'm tired of bending over."

"Fine," Rodney tapped at his earpiece, already turning around. "Teyla? We're coming out."

"Alright, Dr. McKay," Teyla answered. "All is clear out here."

The sunlight outside was nearly blinding after thirty minutes of darkness. John spent a few minutes squeezing his eyes closed, then opening them slowly until he'd adjusted to the light. He almost missed the relative cool of the crawlspace-outside the sun was beating down on the slabs of rock that covered most of the planet, making the heat nearly unbearable.

Beside him, Rodney was already pulling his sunscreen out of his pack and rubbing it onto his arms vigorously, where it mixed from the dust of the cave and turned his skin a really unattractive shade of gray.

"Dr. McKay?" Teyla said uncertainly, and John realized with a start that Ronon and Teyla were both staring at Rodney, wide-eyed. "You do not look yourself."

Rodney raised an eyebrow at her. "I do not look myself? What does that mean? I'd like to see you spend three hours in a hole and still come out looking all Teyla, warrior princess." He rubbed self-consciously at his hair, sending a shower of dust into the air.

"We were in there for half an hour, McKay." John said.

"Yes, well." Rodney stopped, shoving his laptop into his pack and hoisting it over his shoulder. "Can we go? Now that we're presumably done mocking my disheveled appearance?"

He took a step forward, and Teyla took a step backwards, nearly crashing into John. "I...I am unsure of what is happening."

"Something's wrong," Ronon said from beside him, pulling his gun from his holster and pointing it at Rodney. "That's not McKay."

"Hey!" Rodney put his hands up in the air and backed up quickly. "Yes, this is McKay. Let's not go pointing weapons at incredibly valuable scientists, okay?"

John edged his way in front of Rodney, putting his hands up in the air as well and giving Ronon his most calming, soothe-the-natives smile. "What's going on, Ronon?" he asked. "What do you mean that's not McKay? I was with him the entire time we were in there, I'm pretty sure no one pulled a switch on us."

"He looks different." John noted gratefully that although Ronon had his weapon out, his finger wasn't actually resting on the trigger, just twitching near it.

"We've gone over this already, haven't we?" Rodney asked. "Small hole, plus sweat, plus dirt, plus passage of time, makes for a dirty Rodney, okay? That's hardly a reason to shoot me. Especially since you're not exactly the cleanest of people."

"It is not the dirt," said Teyla, peering around John to look at Rodney again. "Your appearance has altered significantly."

John turned around to look at Rodney. He was standing there, hands in the air, mouth set in annoyed line. John couldn't see anything different, other than the aforementioned dirt.

"Teyla? What do you see when you look at McKay?"

"His hair has gone gray-he is taller, and his skin appears to be darker."

"That's not what I see." Ronon said. "He's taller, but his hair is longer, he's in better shape. There's some other stuff too. It's McKay, but not."

John frowned. "Nothing happened while you guys were out here?"

Teyla shook her head. "It has been quiet. We passed the time by talking about sporting games on Sateda. I noticed nothing unusual."

"Well, I think maybe we should get Beckett out here before we head back to Atlantis, figure out what's going on."

"Yes, and maybe we could get the crazy person to stop pointing a gun at me?" said Rodney, with a frustrated gesture towards Ronon. "I've had enough of my teammates shooting me for one lifetime, thanks."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm the one with the gun pointed at me. Speaking of, Ronon, can we do something about that? I'm pretty sure it's not McKay's evil twin."

Ronon lowered his weapon, looking reluctant. He put it back in its holster, but kept his hand in position nearby. "Fine."

"McKay, can you run back to the gate, radio for a medical team?"

Rodney huffed. "Yes, that makes sense. Send the one member of the team who doesn't _like_ exercise running off to the gate in the sweltering heat-"

"Rodney," John warned, and Rodney shut up, shouldering his pack and looking mutinous.

"Fine. But if I die of heatstroke, it's on your head."

"I think I'll live with myself. Ronon, Teyla, you guys feeling okay?"

Teyla nodded, shooting Rodney, who was heading off towards the gate at a brisk walk, one last bemused look. "I do not feel any different, John," she said, shaking her head.

"I don't either," Ronon said, looking unhappy with the turn of events. "McKay should have stayed here, where we could keep an eye on him."

"Look, it's McKay, alright," John said, leading them over to the lone tree that had managed to find a place to grow among all the rocks. It offered a minimal amount of shade, at best, but it was better than sitting out on the bare rocks, or going inside the crawlspace, which John was starting to doubt was stable. "I was with him the whole time. Nothing happened."

"Fine," said Ronon.

"Good. We're all fine."

*

When Rodney returned about an hour later, they'd discussed all the ways that Satedan sports were in no way like football, and had moved on to all the ways that Athosian sports were in no way like soccer. John wondered if there was a reason so many of the games in the Pegasus galaxy seemed to involve sticks.

Rodney was, not surprisingly, trailing Beckett behind him, but was also, surprisingly, trailing Haworth, a cute blonde linguist who'd come in on the Daedalus' last trip. Even more surprisingly, they were both casting secretive glances at Rodney. John actually saw Beckett nearly trip over his feet.

"McKay?" he asked as they approached, and Rodney rolled his eyes at him.

"Nothing wrong with Teyla and Ronon," he said, and John frowned for a moment, trying to figure out-

"Oh," he said.

"Yes, oh," Rodney echoed. "I brought her," he jerked a finger at Haworth, "to try to figure out the inscription. What I can't figure out is why you've escaped unscathed as usual."

"Maybe because I'm not the one who _put my hands_ on an unknown control panel?"

"Yes, well." John was gratified to see that Rodney looked a little embarrassed. "I brought him to look at your head."

Beckett started forward with the med kit, while John gestured towards the crawl space for Haworth's benefit. "The inscription's in there. But don't spend too much time, I think it's slightly unstable."

She nodded, then smiled at Rodney. Rodney just looked confused.

"Dr. McKay," she asked. "Would you like to come with me? I'm sure I could use your help."

"Yes, well," Rodney said, shifting quickly from confused to pleased. "Linguistics is really a pseudo-science, but I am one of the foremost experts in Ancient-" he trailed off as he followed her towards the entrance.

John hissed as Beckett cleaned out his cut with antiseptic.

"It's a bit unsettling, isn't it?" Beckett asked, taping a bandage down gently. It was going to be a bitch to take off-some of the tape was stuck in his hair, John could feel it.

"What is?" John asked, poking at the bandage, then grinning as Beckett slapped his hand away.

"Well, seeing Rodney look like...like that," he said, and John shrugged.

"He doesn't look any different to me." Beckett raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I think it's because I was there when it happened," he explained, and Beckett nodded.

"Makes sense, I guess," Beckett said, sounding as uncertain as he always did when speaking about Ancient devices.

"What does he look like to you?" John asked, curious, and Beckett colored.

"That's a bit personal, don't you think, Colonel?" he asked, a bit snippy.

"Sorry," John said, and turned his head to watch Rodney make his way out of the hole with Haworth close behind. She was gesturing excitedly to him and he was watching her bemusedly, occasionally nodding his head.

She held up her laptop with both hands as she approached them and sort of waved it around. John grinned. She was a little dorky.

"I've entered the inscription into the computer, so I can study it back on Atlantis," she said as Teyla and Ronon hoisted themselves up off of the ground, "but it's a fairly simple dialect, I was able to translate most of it on the spot."

John smirked at Rodney, who rolled his eyes and snapped, "Yes, yes, get on with it."

"Well," she said, blushing a little, "the machine is meant to affect whoever activates it-like you, Dr. McKay-directly, so that everyone who looks at them perceives them differently. Um, so, I see Dr. McKay one way, Teyla sees him another way, and Dr. Beckett yet another. We all see him in an idealized form."

John grinned. "So McKay's attractive to everyone?"

Haworth went even redder than she'd been before, and behind him Ronon gave a little choked sound. "Er, yes, essentially."

"Why?" John asked, not really expecting an answer. The Ancients had hundreds of ridiculous, crazy devices scattered throughout the galaxy, half the time he thought they were just fucking with them. "And for how long?"

"I don't know," Haworth was putting her laptop away and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'll have to study the inscription more once I'm back on Atlantis, and we'll have to search the database, obviously-"

"Yes, obviously," Rodney interrupted, pulling his pack on over his shoulder. "Is there any reason to have this conversation outside, on a planet where the UV levels are almost certainly dangerous, in the sweltering heat, instead of back on Atlantis, after we've all had showers?"

"Fine," said John, making a sweeping gesture towards the gate, "let's head back, report to Elizabeth, check out what the Ancients had to say about this thing."

He fell into step beside Rodney on the way back to the gate, who was trailing behind the others and looked absorbed in thought. He looked up when John nudged him with an arm, smiled a little crookedly, a shock of white in the dark of his face, which was still pretty much covered with dust.

"She-" he started, laughing a little bit, "Haworth, she's never acted like that towards me before. I mean, I heard her telling Simpson I was a pig the other day."

John shrugged. "I guess a lot of people associate outer beauty with inner beauty, McKay."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Well that's certainly idiotic." He looked at John curiously. "What do you see when you look at me, Colonel?"

"Didn't you hear?" John asked. "I'm immune to your charms. I guess cause I was standing there when the thing went off." He paused. "Besides, I wouldn't ask people that from now on. I hear some people feel that it's a personal question."

*

After a few years spent in the Pegasus Galaxy, John didn't find himself surprised by a lot. Space flu, space prostitutes, space vampires-none of that seemed weird anymore. But this? This was surprising.

Everyone in the briefing room was staring at Rodney, some of them even had their mouths hanging comically open. Rodney looked distinctly uncomfortable with the attention-he was squirming in his seat and poking furiously at his tablet, which John could see didn't have anything important on it. He guessed it gave Rodney something to look at, so that he didn't have to meet the eyes of anyone staring at him.

"So, you see," Haworth was saying, "Dr. McKay is appearing to everyone as their absolute ideal. Whatever they find the most attractive is being manifested in his appearance." She blushed a little bit and glanced towards Rodney, making John wonder what she was seeing. She seemed to blush a lot.

Teyla was giving everyone her calmest smile. "Yes, this makes sense. To me, Dr. McKay's appearance resembles that of an Athosian wise man, a position that is most respected and honored among my people. I must admit, his appearance gives me a feeling of great peace and happiness. It is most reassuring."

Haworth smiled. "Yes, exactly. We think it was meant to act as a sort of mask, to help the Ancients infiltrate the cultures they were studying. The Ancient using the device would appear to the people he was trading with as whatever was considered most attractive, most dear to them. Appearances can help put people at ease, I imagine it was a great help with negotiations. Plus, it would help the Ancients seem less unfamiliar to the different cultures-naturally, their ideal would most likely be someone from their own race."

"It's like a glamour," piped up one of the scientists standing near the back of the room, looking down in embarrassment when Rodney glared at him.

"Yes, let's reduce what's undoubtedly an incredibly complicated piece of Ancient equipment to some sort of ridiculous Dungeons and Dragons nonsense," Rodney snapped, and Elizabeth shot him a quelling look.

"How long will it last?" she asked, and Haworth made an unsure little gesture with her hands.

"About a month, as far as we can tell. The device was originally meant to be able to control the length of time the er, glamour," she shot an apologetic look at Rodney, "would last, but according to Dr. McKay it already wasn't functioning properly when he touched it, so there's no way of knowing the time frame it was set to. But there's no indication of it being used for more than a month at a time in the database."

"Alright," Elizabeth said, clapping her hands together in a gesture that signified the end of the meeting, "Carson's looked Rodney over and neither he, nor anybody else, seems to be in any danger from this, so I say we just wait it out. Thanks, everyone." John watched as Rodney nearly shot out of his seat, probably desperate to get to a shower at this point.

John was the last one out the door before Elizabeth, and she caught his arm and stopped him just as he was about to escape.

"I understand the device is having no effect on you," she asked, and John nodded.

"I'm fine," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I figure it'll probably be good for McKay to have someone around who isn't fawning all over him. Keep his ego in check."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "You say you're fine, or Carson says you're fine?" she asked, and John smiled sheepishly.

"I'll stop by the infirmary on the way to my quarters?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "You do that."

*

M3X-246 was one of the planets with horribly hot days and equally horribly cold nights. They'd walked about five miles from the gate so far, but John could already feel the sweat dripping down from his hairline into his eyes and pooling at the small of his back. Rodney had stripped off his tac vest (against John's orders) and John could see patches of sweat soaking through the blue of his shirt. He frowned. Ronon and Teyla were probably looking at glistening sweat of manly perfection; he had to get the malfunctioning sweaty, heavy-breathing, pissed off scientist.

"So what are we trading for again?" Rodney asked, taking a sip of water from his canteen and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. John looked away as he noticed a trickle of water running down his neck and pooling at the collar of his shirt. God, Rodney was a mess.

"The Latarans are known for their root vegetables, which are full of nutrients and have many healing properties," Teyla was saying, smiling at Rodney. She'd been doing that a lot lately, John'd noticed. "But they are very distrustful of strangers, and since the vegetables are difficult to cultivate, they do not give them up easily. My people have been trying to trade with them for a long time, I was hoping that the pleasing effect of your appearance might be helpful in easing the way."

"Right," said Rodney, pulling his tac vest back on as they spotted the village a few hundred feet off. "So we're whoring me out for potatoes. Good to know. Of course it couldn't be coffee, or a chocolate-like substance. No, I'm giving up my virtue for potatoes."

"Who said anything about your virtue, McKay? Your virtue's not to go anywhere near any of these villagers, understood?"

Rodney shot John a withering look. "Yes, well, I was talking about my metaphorical virtue, obviously," he snapped. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Sheppard."

There was a small contingent of villagers approaching them, dressed in what seemed to be Pegasus Galaxy uniform-homespun clothes, primitive weapons, and, yup, Teyla had been right, faces that looked less than friendly. John could tell the instant they caught sight of McKay, though. The woman leading the group, a tall, dignified looking brunette, relaxed considerably, her eyes going wide and her face shifting into an expression of welcome. Behind her, the other villagers followed suit.

"Uh, hello," said Rodney. Given the circumstances, they'd decided that he should be the one to make first contact, rather than Teyla, but he was clearly uncomfortable with his new position. "I'm Dr. McKay, of the Atlantis expedition, and this is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagen of Athosia, and Ronon Dex of Sateda."

The woman bowed low to the ground, then raised her head gracefully, meeting Rodney's eyes and giving him a dazzling smile. "Welcome, Dr. McKay. I am Neera, leader of the Lataran settlement. May good grace follow your people wherever you wander."

"Uh, to you too," said Rodney, smiling back a bit awkwardly. Teyla stepped forward, smoothly taking over as planned.

"We were hoping to trade for some of your _ooni_ -my people have heard tell of it for many years. We have medicine, supplies, even scientific knowledge that could be helpful in the fight against the Wraith, that we would gladly offer in return."

"Of course, Teyla Emmagen," said Neera, not taking her eyes off of Rodney. "Your party must be tired and hungry, it is a long walk from the gate and our climate is difficult for those who are not used to it. Come, I will show you to our cooling pools, where you may refresh yourselves, and we would be honored if you would then partake in our evening feast in the great hall."

Teyla smiled. "We would be honored to do so."

Neera bowed her head again, then stepped forward, taking Rodney's arm. "Come, I will show you the way." Rodney followed her, a bit dazedly, and the other villagers turned on their heels and followed Neera, leaving John, Teyla, and Ronon to follow closely behind. Teyla smiled at him contentedly.

"That went very well indeed. It seems that the device Dr. McKay has discovered may be very helpful to us-so many of our trades seem to result in unnecessary discord."

John smirked. "I hope you're not referring to anything I've done."

"Certainly not, John," Teyla said, giving him a smirk of her own. "I merely mean to say that if Rodney can help soothe the relationships between Atlantis and other worlds, all will benefit."

"I guess," John said, choosing not to point out that they couldn't possibly use Rodney as a bartering tool on trades all the time-eventually people would notice that he looked different everywhere he went. Although maybe that wouldn't happen all that often-people probably didn't discuss the way their team looked with each other, except to point out basic attractiveness or unattractiveness. "Come on," he said, beckoning them towards the group of villagers, who had gotten significantly ahead of them. Everyone in the group seemed to be jostling each other, trying to get as close to Rodney as possible. "Let's go hit those cooling pools."

*

The evening feast was like nothing John had ever seen before-every dish, even the alcohol, which tasted vaguely like vodka, was made out of the _ooni_. There were the typical dishes, which John supposed meant that some things really were universal-mashed _ooni_ , baked _ooni_ , boiled _ooni_ , roasted _ooni_. There was a dish of purple _ooni_ that had been flavored with something sweet, and tasted almost like vanilla ice cream, which would have been nice, except for the fact that it was warm and had the consistency of mashed potatoes. There was a hot drink that was pressed onto them at the beginning of the meal made out of strained ooni skin. It tasted bitter and burned the back of John's throat as he drank it, but soon afterwards he felt re-energized and more awake than he'd been in days. Rodney had immediately asked Teyla to get the recipe before they left.

"The _ooni_ provides us with everything we need," one of the older villagers was explaining to John from across the table. "We eat nothing else-we have even attempted to create building materials from it, but so far our attempts have proved unsuccessful." John nodded politely, while leaning towards Rodney who was sitting beside him.

"Better not tell them about the Irish, huh," he said, under his breath. Rodney, who'd been talking to Neera on his other side, turned and glanced at him distractedly.

"Hm?" he asked. "Oh, right, yes. Very Irish." He turned back to Neera, not even sparing him a second glance. John, annoyed, noted that Neera's hand was resting on Rodney's thigh, and Rodney didn't seem to be doing anything about it.

John nodded at the man across the table and got up, moving down to the other end to sit beside Teyla. She was laughing at something one of the Latarans was saying to her, her cheeks flushed. John grinned and sat down next to her, giving a little wave when she turned to greet him.

"Oh, John!" she exclaimed in a way that let him know she'd certainly been enjoying the Lataran alcohol. "I find the Latarans very pleasing indeed. They are a wonderful people."

"Yup," John agreed, feeling pretty friendly towards anyone who didn't try to shoot them, or sell them to the Genii. "Very pleasing."

"And it is nice to see Dr. McKay so happy for once, is it not?" she asked, and involuntarily John found himself looking towards the head of the table, where Neera was pressing another glass of the _ooni_ vodka to Rodney's lips, laughing at Rodney's startled blush. He was giving her a crooked smile that made John's chest feel strangely tight.

"I don't know," he said, pulling his gaze away. "Don't you think he's tricking them? He shouldn't be taking advantage of her like that."

Teyla frowned and leveled a glare at him that made him feel like immediately taking his words back. "I do not think so," she said, in a voice that was much kinder than her expression. "I think the Ancient device merely allows people to look beyond appearance, to see what is good underneath. You should feel pleased for Dr. McKay, when you are so often the recipient of affection on other worlds, John."

"Right," said John, looking down at his plate and feeling scolded. "Pleased."

"The Latarans have invited us to stay for the night, while they prepare the _ooni_ for transportation in the morning. I will arrange for our quarters, if that is alright with you, John," Teyla said, standing up gracefully from her chair.

"That's fine," he said distractedly, looking back up the table at Rodney. "Contact Atlantis, let them know we'll be staying."

Teyla smiled. "I had already planned on it. Enjoy the rest of the feast, John. The Latarans have much to offer in the way of conversation."

"Okay," he said, already watching as a small blonde, dressed in pink and looking no more than nineteen years old, made her way towards Rodney. Neera frowned as Rodney turned away from her, looking towards the girl who'd put her hand on his shoulder and was blushing prettily.

"Dr. McKay," she said, soft enough that John had to strain to hear her over the noise of the feast. "I hear you are interested in science-my father is the chief librarian for our settlement. I was wondering if you would like to look at our scientific works. Your society is no doubt more advanced than ours, but perhaps you could find something of interest to you."

John braced himself for Rodney's inevitable onslaught of derogatory comments on primitive societies and their ideas of what constituted science. Instead he just smiled up at her, looking kinder than John had ever seen him. "Of course," Rodney said, standing up and turning to flash his newly charming smile at Neera. "Neera, if you'll excuse me."

Neera didn't look like she was happy to be excusing him at all, but she nodded her head and stood up as well. "It has been an honor sharing your company, Dr. McKay," she said, and Rodney bobbed his head once at her, strangely formal, before following the girl towards the door of the hall.

"Whoa," said John, standing up and grabbing Rodney's sleeve as he passed. "I'll come with you."

Rodney frowned. "I hardly think there's-"

"Because friendly, seemingly peaceful agricultural societies have never bit us in the ass before," John said, pointedly, and Rodney's mouth snapped shut. John smiled around Rodney's shoulder at the girl.

"Hi," he said, holding out his hand, "I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard." He gave her his most charming smile, but the girl just nodded her head at him and took Rodney's hand in hers.

"Come," she said, leading them outside. "The library is the next building over."

Library was too kind a word for the ramshackle little cabin she led them to, but it was filled to the ceiling with shelves and shelves of books, and the girl grinned proudly when she showed Rodney inside.

"Many of our writings are many hundreds of years old," she said, gesturing at some of the brittle, yellowing papers that were laid out on a crude wooden table. "We pass them down from generation to generation, so that our knowledge survives cullings, even if we do not. Come, let me show you," she said, pressing Rodney forward towards the table with a hand in the small of his back. She leaned over him with her face close to his, her blonde hair gleaming in the flickering light of the lantern nearby.

Rodney shifted to look at something more closely and his arm brushed against hers, making her gasp. Rodney gave her a little smile of apology, and John clenched his fist against his side, suddenly, inexplicably angry.

"I'm going to bed," he announced.

Rodney turned around, surprised. "But I thought-"

"I'm sure you'll be fine," John bit out, turning on his heel and rushing out into the bitterly cold night.

*

The hut they'd been assigned to was decadent. The beds were nothing more than wood blocks, but they were covered with piles of soft furs to ward off the cold of the planet's nights. The room was bathed with soft light from lanterns by each of the beds, and John felt content to burrow underneath the furs and let his mind wander, filled with certainty that Ronon and Teyla were equally comfortable and safe in the next hut over.

He'd drifted off to sleep by the time Rodney entered the hut, stumbling heavily against the door, then cursing in a whisper that let John know he'd been trying not to disturb him. The little lamps were still burning away, so John sat up in bed and peered through the dim light at his watch. It was three in the morning.

"Enjoy yourself, McKay?" he asked, and was alarmed to hear that instead of being drawling and uninterested, his voice sounded a little shrill and accusing. Rodney turned around, startled, and John found himself looking at his lips, trying to see whether they were swollen or not. They looked like they were, but he couldn't be sure unless Rodney got closer. Not that he cared. "Enjoy tricking that girl into thinking you were Ashton Kutcher?"

Rodney flushed angrily, then turned towards his own bed, stripping his shirt off over his head jerkily. "Ashton Kutcher, Colonel? Been reading _Tiger Beat_ during your spare time?"

"Whatever, McKay. You were only listening to her because you thought she was hot! Since when are you nice to natives?"

"For your information," Rodney said, still turned away from him. John realized he was staring at the smooth, pale skin of Rodney's back-at an angry scar that jerked across the underside of his shoulder, at the delicate, vulnerable looking white of his neck. "I was going over some of their research with the chief scientist. There are some interesting applications for the _ooni_ that could help with minor energy problems on Atlantis." John found himself unable to look away as he realized Rodney was stepping out of his pants, leaving John staring at the curve of his ass. "And I was being nice to her because she was being nice to me, which, believe it or not, is a fairly rare occurrence. In case you haven't noticed, not everyone charms the pants off every native woman we meet! But it's nice to know that you think I'd try to take advantage of a sixteen-year-old girl." Rodney was still talking, his voice flat and unhappy, and John thought _Jesus, sixteen_? "It's good to know that you have such a low opinion of me."

"No, McKay," John said, unsure of what he was going to say but knowing he had to try, but Rodney was already standing up and blowing the lamps out. He climbed into the bed and made happy little noises as he nestled underneath the layers of fur.

Happy little noises that were going straight to John's dick, which had gotten hard without John's consent. God, he'd gotten hard while watching Rodney undress. What the fuck?

He hadn't ever thought of Rodney like that before all of this, he was positive of that. He'd never looked at him and thought, I want. And now all he could think about was putting his mouth on all of that skin, or smoothing two of his fingers down the inside of Rodney's thigh. Which meant...he exhaled, relieved. Which meant that the device was working on him. He must have had some sort of delayed reaction.

Rodney's breath was going slow and even beside him, shifting into soft snores, and John felt horribly guilty all of a sudden. He'd probably accused Rodney of trying to get into the little blonde girl's pants because he'd been subconsciously jealous. God, he was an asshole.

He clenched his hands into fists and lay them down by his sides. He thought about his mother's meatloaf, Caldwell naked, baseball statistics, pointedly ignoring anything related to his cock. He'd talk to Rodney in the morning, explain himself, and it would all be fine, he thought, drifting off to sleep to the cacophony of Rodney's snores.

*

When he woke up in the morning, Rodney was already awake, dressed and typing on his laptop. He cleared his throat and Rodney turned away, pointedly ignoring him. It was still dark outside, and, presumably, cold, and John was reluctant to move out from underneath the warm furs. He stretched out contentedly, groaning and closing his eyes as he felt his stiff joints pop and his muscles shift. When he opened his eyes again, Rodney was staring at him, mouth a little bit open.

John caught his gaze, and Rodney looked quickly back down at the keyboard of his laptop, poking brusquely at a few buttons before closing it and shoving it in his pack. He stabbed one foot into a boot, and John felt his mouth go dry as he watched the muscles in Rodney's biceps bunch as he pulled tight on one of the laces.

"Look, McKay," he said, voice rough from sleep, and Rodney glared up at him.

"Not really in the mood to talk to the person who basically accused me of rape last night, Colonel," Rodney said, standing up and stalking over to one of the windows. "I assure you, I'll stay away from all native girls in the future, now that I know you're apparently the only one allowed to talk to them. And when we get back to Atlantis, I guess I shouldn't talk to any of the women there either, hm? Or some of the men, for that matter. Wouldn't want to take advantage, not when Colonel Sheppard's guarding their-"

"The device works on me," John blurted out, and Rodney cut off mid rant and turned around, wide-eyed.

"What?"

"I-" John said, sitting up and gesturing uncertainly. "Delayed reaction, I guess. It's working on me now. So, uh, that's why I was sort of a jerk."

Rodney snorted. "Sort of a jerk?"

"A big jerk, okay? I'm sorry."

Rodney shrugged. "Apology accepted." He smiled. "Besides, you weren't entirely wrong. I mean, she obviously wanted me. And she was hot! Seriously hot!"

John rolled his eyes. "Nice, McKay. Perving on a teenager."

Rodney grinned and threw John's pack at him from across the room. "C'mon," he said, moving towards the door. "We've got about a billion pounds of _ooni_ to load onto the not-really-an-ox cart."

*

Things were normal enough back on Atlantis, and John was so busy trying to coordinate all the new trades that had been smoothed by the Ancient device that he was almost able to stop thinking about Rodney completely. Occasionally he'd be sitting at the mess and find himself staring at the pale skin of Rodney's neck, or the way his ass looked in a pair of BDUs. But since everyone else was doing it too, he figured no one really noticed.

Rodney was being pulled in so many different directions lately that John had barely seen him for two weeks-he figured he'd been busy with trading. John had heard snippets of conversations throughout the base-the anthropologists wanted him to help ease their way into native cultures, the marines wanted him to help get an amazing energy weapon they'd found on PX5-339, the botanists wanted him to help them gain access to an interesting looking plant that the denizens of M5X-943 considered sacred. John's contact with him had been limited to glances in hallways and the mess hall, radio conversations about minor problems, and one startling, accidental incident when he'd walked in on Ronon backing Rodney up against the wall of a lab, brushing his thumb against Rodney's neck and the curve of his hip bone, ignoring Rodney's stuttering gasps and saying, "You have a tattoo here...and here..."

John had backed out of the lab quietly, but returned later that night to talk to Rodney. There'd been a few incidents over the past couple of weeks where people had forgotten themselves, forgotten that the fact that Rodney looked different didn't give them license to touch. But it had never been someone Rodney was close with, never an incident that might have repercussions later on, when the device had worn off.

He rounded the corner and found Rodney sitting at one of the tables, hunched miserably over a pile of papers, so engrossed that he hadn't even noticed that John had come in. John took a moment to study him-his eyes had gone red-rimmed, with black circles underneath, and his face looked more haggard than usual. His hair was standing up in tufts where he'd obviously run his hands through it in frustration. John felt horrible-Rodney was obviously being overworked, he decided he'd talk to Elizabeth in the morning about limiting his off-world missions.

"Hey," he said. "I, uh-" he gestured awkwardly, a cross between a shrug and a wave.

Rodney looked up blearily from his pile of papers, blinked at him a few times, and said, "Oh, Colonel."

"You doin' okay?" he asked, wanting to point out that Rodney should have been sleeping, but knowing that wouldn't accomplish anything. "I, um, saw Ronon in here earlier.

"Yes, I just-" Rodney paused, running a hand over his face, and he looked so goddamn weary that John had to resist the urge to cross the room and rub his back. "It's fine," he said dismissively, mouth slanting down. "He was confused. I look like one of the men he served with, back on Sateda."

"Oh." John let that sink in for a minute, immediately canceling the talk he'd been planning on having with Ronon about sexual harassment and appropriate workplace behavior. "Haven't seen much of you lately," he said, wanting desperately to change the subject.

Rodney flipped a couple of papers up in the air, then let them flutter back down to the table's surface. "I haven't had time to do much work of my own. It seems that, ah, everyone has a reason to need me lately. To be honest, I can't wait for this freaking glamour to wear off."

John laughed. "You're calling it a glamour now?"

"It's harder to scream at people and reduce them to masses of quivering, idiotic goo when they're bending over backwards to please you," he said with a shrug. "It's easier just to be pleasant back. The other day I told Miko that the paper she's been working on for nine months could have been written by a fifth grader, and she just smiled and asked me what she could do to improve." Rodney didn't sound pleased about this turn of events. "It's driving me crazy."

He paused, fiddling with the papers, stacking them and restacking them. "How do you deal with it?" he asked after a few moments of silence. "Deal with, you know," John watched, fascinated, as a flush spread up the side of Rodney's neck. If he squinted, he could see the tips of his ears going pink. "Being you."

"How do I deal with being me?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's a struggle, but somehow I manage."

"No," said Rodney, back to fiddling again. "I mean, you're-well, I guess quite a few people would say you're relatively attractive. I mean, if you go for that whole slouchy, messy-haired, surfer boy sort of thing."

"Uh-huh," John said, skeptically.

"And they must, I mean," Rodney paused, flushing again, made a little gesture that looked like he was sculpting clay, and came around to the other side of the lab table, leaning back against it. "At first I thought it would be great, a way to finally get the women of this base to appreciate me. But-it's a little creepy, you know? They want to be around me all the time. And-well, obviously it's not me they're seeing. Or, it's just the outer shell, anyway. So how do you deal with that?"

"Rodney," John said, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know where you've gotten the idea that I'm some tortured beauty, pursued only for my looks, but that sort of stuff really doesn't happen to me all that often."

Rodney was blushing again, and John was disturbed to find himself thinking it was adorable. Rodney was probably right-the sooner this thing wore off, the better.

"Well," Rodney said, a little flustered, "I wish they'd stop. It's wearing me down-everyone has an excuse for why they need my help with something, and then I get there and they just stare, for hours on end."

"Well, hey," John said, starting forward and making what he'd always thought was a vaguely comforting, chin-up sort of gesture. "It can't be that bad, right, having everyone think you're attractive? I mean, it's probably even got some benefits."

Rodney barked out a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, yes, Sheppard it's just wonderful. Have you even stopped to think about what people on this mission might find attractive?" He clenched his hands into angry fists by his sides. "People think I look like their _husbands_. Or their _teammates_. We go to other worlds, and I meet girls who think I look like lovers who were culled years ago-"

"I-" John tried to say he hadn't known, but Rodney wasn't pausing.

"And the worst part is how nice everyone is to me now. It's like I've been replaced by a totally different person. They can tolerate me now that I'm attractive; they're willing to put up with my personality as long as they can look at something pretty. And it makes me think, how awful did people think I looked _before_?"

"Rodney, no-" John started to say, or at least he thought he did. Before he even thought about what he was doing he had wrapped a hand around Rodney's wrist and was kissing him, pressing him back against the lab table. Rodney was saying something, or trying to, but John just used the opportunity to lick into his mouth, to taste the coffee and the goddamn _ooni_ they'd served for dinner. He felt crazy, like he'd been waiting to do this forever. He broke away from Rodney's mouth, let his tongue drag around his jaw and kissed the rough curve of his neck, licked at the skin at the edge of his collar.

Somewhere above his head Rodney was saying, "I shouldn't," and "John, wait," but when John cupped a hand around his cock it nearly leapt into his hand, and he let out a small, broken sound and hauled John back up to kiss him, almost angrily. John wanted to touch him everywhere, but had to content himself with running his hands up the hot skin of Rodney's back while Rodney grabbed at his hips and pulled them together, making them both groan deep in the back of their throats.

The rest was sort of a blur-there was John sinking to his knees, peeling Rodney's pants open and licking reverently at the sharp jut of his hipbone, pulling Rodney's cock free of his boxers and wrapping a hand around the base, shoving his nose into the soft crease of Rodney's thigh and breathing him in, licking at the delicate, pale skin there and listening to Rodney's desperate, stuttering cries. There was some awkward sucking, until John got the hang of it, relaxed his throat and swallowed Rodney down as far as he could, and god, he'd never understood those girls who said they loved sucking cock, he'd always thought they were just being slutty, but now he got it, knew that he'd be content to do this forever if it meant he got to keep making Rodney gasp out breathless words of "fuck" and "Jesus" and "John" again and again. John stroked two fingers hard behind his balls and felt Rodney's thighs tremble beneath his hand, felt Rodney's balls pull up tight, and then he was coming, salty and sour and bitter down the back of John's throat.

Rodney started to slide down to the ground, knees shaking, but John stood up swiftly, grabbed at Rodney's hips and braced him against the table, then jerked his own pants open and slid his cock into the hot wet crease of Rodney's thigh, pressing hard once, twice, before he was coming in a mess against Rodney's belly.

He rested his forehead against Rodney's chest and tried to catch his breath, but Rodney was pushing him away, pulling his pants back up and his shirt back down, trying to smooth out his hair.

"I," Rodney stopped, his voice had come out sort of low and rough, making John's dick give a tired, but interested twitch. Rodney cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm sorry," he said, and John tried to clear the sex haze that was hindering his brain activity so that he could focus on what was going on, but it was too late, Rodney was saying "I shouldn't have-" and rushing out the door, leaving John standing in the middle of the lab with his pants open, totally confused.

*

John tried to talk to Rodney at dinner that night, but as soon as he got close to the table where Rodney and Ronon and Teyla were sitting, Rodney jumped up and said, a little breathless, "Ronon, weren't you going to teach me some sort of stick game?" and rushed out of the mess, with Ronon grunting in agreement and following close behind. If Rodney was volunteering to be hit with sticks, then the situation was dire indeed.

John sat down dejectedly across from Teyla, who smiled serenely at him over her cup of _ooni_ tea.

That night, Rodney wasn't in any of the labs, or in his quarters, or on any of his usual balconies, or prowling any of his usual hallways. John checked with Zelenka to see if he'd gone to work on a problem in one of the remote parts of the city, but Zelenka had simply shrugged, saying that Rodney had taken a rare night off.

Disappointed, John returned to his quarters, only to find Rodney flipping through one of his sudoku books, scoffing to himself and muttering over the puzzles. He looked up at the soft "zwoosh" of the door, and gave John a weak smile.

"Colonel," he said, putting the book aside and standing up, hands clenching and unclenching by his thighs. "I came to apologize."

John raised an eyebrow, stepping forward and letting the door shut quietly behind him. "Apologize for what?"

"Well, for-well, you said it best, I suppose-for, ah, taking advantage of you. I know I shouldn't have let it go so far, but, well..." he trailed off, looking down at the ground, and John could see the blush spreading up the side of his neck.

"Rodney-" John started forward, alarmed, but Rodney looked up at him, eyes tight, and held up a hand in warning.

"Please," he said. "I do hope that you'll forgive me, obviously, and that we'll be able to continue working together. What I did was inexcusable, my personal feelings were no excuse for allowing, ah-" there was the blush again, creeping up the side of his cheek, "for allowing what happened between us to happen while you were under the influence of the Ancient device. I know I appear, er, different to you right now." Rodney's expression had gone from embarrassed to miserable, the line of his mouth was slanting down at a sharp angle, and his eyes looked even more tired and sad than they had in the lab the night before. John stepped in close to Rodney, ignoring his raised hand of protest, which landed feebly against John's chest before sliding away to rest at Rodney's side.

"Rodney, I didn't-it wasn't just the Ancient device" John said, voice rough, stroking his thumb along the surprisingly delicate bones of Rodney's wrist. "I just...um," John realized he didn't know exactly what to say, couldn't explain his actions even to himself, much less Rodney. What Rodney was saying was true, after all. He'd never thought about jumping Rodney in one of the labs before. In his pause, Rodney's eyes had gone flat, and he was wrenching his wrist away from the circle of John's hand.

"Right, Colonel," he said, voice sharp and dismissive. "You've just wanted me all along, your jumping me had nothing to do with the Ancient device that makes me attractive to _everyone_. Because that makes so much sense!"

"Rodney," he said, feeling sick with himself, but Rodney was already turning towards the door.

"I apologized," Rodney was saying, voice clipped, "and I hope that will be enough. I don't know if you think you're being kind, but, well, you're not. The opposite, actually."

The door slid shut behind him, leaving John alone with his thoughts.

*

John got called to the briefing room three days later, when Rodney came back from what was supposed to be a routine mission to study botany on one of the jungle planets with three injured scientists and a marine who needed surgery.

"What happened?" he asked, charging into the briefing room and glancing worriedly at Rodney, who had an angry looking scrape running up the side of his neck and a bruise blooming along his jaw. Elizabeth was sitting next to him at the head of the table, looking vaguely guilty.

"Some of the natives got a little overzealous in their appreciation of McKay," said Lorne, looking apologetic. "By the time we were ready to go to the gate, they weren't quite ready to part with him, and during negotiations they noticed that not all of them were seeing the same thing when they looked at him."

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," said Rodney, voice weary. "And it turns out that this particular culture is a very distrustful and superstitious people."

"Any dead?" John asked, jaw clenching. Rodney's shirt was ripped just underneath the curve of his ribs.

"No sir," said Lorne. "They took McKay prisoner, but only had him for a few minutes-we were able to neutralize the threat and get McKay back without any shots being fired. Stevens got a nasty arrow to the arm, and the scientists are all a little banged up."

"Anything need to be done to further neutralize the situation?"

Rodney shook his head. "Before they discovered they were being tricked, they were very friendly. Besides, they barely have the technology to make their little bows and arrows, they're hardly a threat to us."

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes dark. "Okay. But I think that until the device wears off, no more off-world missions, Rodney."

John nodded with her. "He's looking a little tired anyway, could probably use a break, right McKay?"

Elizabeth frowned. "Is he?" she asked, already moving on to the next crisis in her mind. "I hadn't noticed. If that's all, gentlemen-"

Rodney shoved his chair back and rushed towards the door, but John was ready, following quickly on his heels. He followed Rodney to his quarters and pressed him inside, thinking the door shut behind them as Rodney let out an angry squawk. He stumbled forward, away from John's hands, and turned, mouth pressed in an angry line.

"I thought we'd already said everything that needed saying, Colonel," he said, sounding resigned and tired. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Look, I've been punched in the face far too much for my liking today, and all I want to do is sleep, and maybe take a shower, possibly both, so if you could just say whatever-"

"Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?" John blurted out, interrupting, and Rodney's eyes went wide for a moment before slipping back into tired again.

"Not particularly, no," he said, voice weary, and John pressed forward, suddenly angry, putting his hands on Rodney's shoulders and manhandling him until he was standing in front of a mirror with John behind him.

"Colonel," Rodney tried, attempting to shrug off John's hands, but John stroked a thumb down his neck and he went quiet. "Fine," he said, resignedly. "It's not like this will be a new experience for me."

John let his thumb press at a spot behind Rodney's ear. "You have a freckle, right here," he said, bending forward and grazing his teeth over it, smiling at Rodney's involuntary little gasp. "And I spend a lot of time thinking about doing this," he said, pushing the sleeve of Rodney's shirt up and stroking two fingers, lightly, along the sharp line of the scar on his forearm. Rodney gave a broken, hitching sound and leaned back against John, and John slid his hand underneath Rodney's shirt, stroking the soft give of his belly, the gently curve of his flank. "Sometimes, on missions, your shirt rides up, and I think about putting my mouth here," John was hard now, staring at the dark skin of his hand against the pale skin of Rodney's hip, and he could see an answering bulge in the front of Rodney's pants.

"You're driving me crazy," he said, pressing gently at Rodney's bruise and smiling satisfyingly at Rodney's answering hiss. "God, I even think your cuts and bruises are attractive," he said, tracing a finger up the cut on Rodney's neck. In the mirror, Rodney's eyes went wide, and he shoved himself away from John.

"What did you say?"

John frowned, confused. "I even like your cuts and bruises," he repeated, feeling a little ridiculous now that the moment had passed. "What? Is that weird?"

"But," Rodney said, voice uncertain, eyes meeting John's own in the mirror, "you're not supposed to be able to see that. I went to the infirmary after the mission, and Beckett, he couldn't even see that I'd been injured. I had to clean out the cut myself."

"But-"

"What else do you see?" Rodney asked, turning around to face him head on. "Tell me," he said, voice clipped and impatient.

"I," John said, unsure. "You have bags under your eyes, and you've lost weight. And you look tired, your mouth is sort of pinched. You-your shirt's ripped, and there's a scrape along your ribs." He paused. "But it all looks good to me. I mean, you look good. The Ancient device, I guess, so none of it matters."

"No, John," Rodney said, stepping forward, smiling, and suddenly Rodney was kissing him, biting into his mouth slowly and sweetly. "You're an idiot," he said, fondly, mouth brushing John's with every word.

"What do you-" John asked, distracted again since Rodney's hands were working their way under his shirt, stroking up his back and over the curve of his ass.

Rodney trailed his mouth down over his jaw. "If the Ancient device was working on you," Rodney said, making his way back up to John's mouth, "you wouldn't be able to see any imperfections."

"But I- _oh_ " John said, getting it.

"Like I said, idiot," Rodney said smugly. "Actually, we're both sort of idiots. I thought," Rodney was saying between kisses, hips jerking in a way that was making it hard for John to focus, "that you just wanted me because of the stupid glamour thing," Rodney had backed John up far enough that the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he went tumbling down onto it. Rodney followed easily, straddling John with his knees on either side of his thighs. "And I wanted you so badly, for so long," he was still saying, pushing John's shirt up over his head and biting deliberately at a nipple, "that I didn't care and, ah, god!"

John had gotten his hand on Rodney's cock, and after that there wasn't much talking anymore. Except for later, when Rodney, hands shaking over John's thighs as John bent over him, said, "I want...I want," and John said "okay," and let Rodney show him how to press his fingers inside, slow, gentle, gasping at the heat, while Rodney's hand shook around his wrist, guiding him. And when John pressed inside, hands skimming over Rodney's trembling thighs, Rodney said, "I...I..."

And John said, "I know. Me too," thanking God for Ancient devices.


End file.
